


Caspian Dabbles in Fanfiction

by MelaphyreX



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: (kind of? he's just horny over donuts), Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Food Kink, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelaphyreX/pseuds/MelaphyreX
Summary: Alternatively titled "Title That Makes You Say 'I Want to Read This.'" Ostensibly a collection of random, mostly serious Ghost drabbles I've written that don't belong to any grand story in particular, often inspired by vivid dreams or concepts that tickled my fancy. Will definitely end up being mostly Copia centered and probably gay, just like myself. Each drabble will contain more specific tags and a blurb in the notes. Mostly NSFW but not always sexually NSFW.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/A Box of Donuts, Cardinal Copia/Papa Emeritus III
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Copia/3 (Ghost Sex)

**Author's Note:**

> concept was based on a meme, execution turned into angst. basically copia has does the do with the ghost of papa iii but make it sad and flowery lol. couldnt sleep last night and was riddled with anxiety so i regurgitated this. dont mind me returning to how i normally type in the notes lol. i keep autocaps mf OFF except when im writing fiction n shit. too gay to write with proper capitalization all the time. it's exhausting

Copia whimpered face first into his pillow, biting at the fabric soaked in his own drool. To either side of his head, he clung to the sheets, desperate, needy. His body moved rhythmically, legs spread wide, ass in the air, knees indenting the mattress. In the creases where his thighs and hips met, hot fingers grasped and dug, ever searching for a firm hold.

The length that buried itself inside of him burned equally as hot but not unbearably so. It was an otherworldly burn that left him feverish and gasping with pleasure from each thrust. Scalding lips pressed kisses to his shoulders and neck, and every time they brushed close to his ears, he could hear the whispers of all the souls of the damned calling out to him.

When the lips interlocked with his own, he could more than just hear the beyond, he could taste it, and with each passing second, he desired more and more to be one with it. He lusted for it.

At the sudden loss of the tongue in his mouth, he whined, searching for the apparition with his eyes. A simple gaze upon him was enough to send a shudder through his body. The spirit glowed of absinthe and the stars, endless galaxies swirling within the flickering shroud of his figure. In his white eye alone, it seemed that all the brightest stars of the heavens gathered to shine within.

He wanted to cry at his beauty, instead he cried his Papa's name as he came into the sheets, wracked with pleasures beyond his comprehension. When the throes of his orgasm had passed, he sobbed into his pillow, shaking from the emptiness that came from being left by his beloved once more, in this life and the next.


	2. Copia Fucking Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is as the chapter titles says. came to me in a vivid dream. i mean lots of random shit happened that doesnt really make sense but the important bit is that towards the end i was copia and something along these lines happened to me and i woke up from the very visceral feelings of dying. if shit doesnt make sense, dont worry. you probably had to have been there, and even then. NOTE: contains angst, blood, gore, large insects, referenced character deaths, and experiencing dying firsthand (graphic depictions of death). comes with a little twist

Copia surveyed the carnage, standing quietly, oblivious to the ghouls and siblings trudging away to leave him by himself. All the mutilated corpses lay against each other in the field, almost peacefully, as if they were simply sharing a nap together on a cool summer day. But the stench of blood and death marred the scene.

Nobody should have had to die. And the sheep they had to slay didn't deserve to have been mutated into whatever the hell they'd become. He turned and vomited into the grass, not caring where it splattered against his feet. He was already coated in far worse substances. There was no way of knowing who they might have lost. It made him want to vomit again at the thought of anyone he knew dying. Really, the thought of losing any of their people sickened him. All of it sickened him, churning deep in his gut.

He slid to the ground and fell backwards into the grass to a sitting position, wiping the sweat from his brow with a heave of his shoulders. They would need to clean this up eventually, but for now, everyone deserved to rest. They'd been through enough already. It was only fair they got a break before they had to deal with the horror of digging their loved ones out from the gruesome remains and burying their dead.

All of this felt like his fault. He was supposed to be their leader, yet he let so many fall. It could be argued that it was a necessary sacrifice to prevent worse casualties and death, but surely there had been another way, something that didn't call for so much violence and death. But the infection didn’t leave them much choice. They had to stop it, before it could become worse.

Already the insects and birds circled the field screeching and buzzing over the feast below. The flies couldn't help but be drawn to the blood painting his body and face. He hissed as he swatted them away fruitlessly, cursing at them for being disgustingly huge. Something landed on his neck and immediately bit him. He swore at the sharp pain, slapping at the source. If he hit it, he couldn't tell. The pain was searing and persisting and it whined in his right ear. His pulse throbbed heavily in his neck and shoulder. It almost felt like his veins were overloading with fire.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice cracking as he quickly lost control of it. His body seized up and he slumped back in the dirt, twitching uncontrollably. He couldn't move his hand away from his neck. He couldn't move at all. His breath came in fast bursts, laden with urgency. He stared straight up into the bright afternoon sky, eyes wide and stinging around the edges from being too afraid to close them.

The large, grotesque flies hovered over his face, almost mockingly. None of them swooped in to bite him again; they merely observed him, watching the tremors in his body intensify until he was convulsing violently, his body beyond his control now. So many thoughts spun in his mind that he couldn't hear any of them any more. It was all just incoherent piercing, white noise. He was so scared, and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't scream. He couldn't cry. He couldn't move. 

He was dying.

The pain morphed into numbness which branched from his neck down through his body to the tips of his fingers and toes. He couldn't feel his lungs anymore or his heart. Surely he’d stopped breathing. He couldn't feel his throat. And then came his mouth. He didn’t think he would ever miss the taste of bile on his tongue. He even wished for the stench of rotting flesh to fill up his nostrils until it provoked him to vomit, whose taste he would then savor. He would have begged to feel the sting of tears in his eyes from sobbing out of terror when the numbness overtook his vision and left him in the dark, shrinking recesses of his mind.

_ How could I. have.. been… so… w… rong…? _

There, his body lay in the field with the others, still, peaceful, almost picturesque. Perhaps it could have been beautiful, had it not been for the full blown terror etched into his glossed over eyes. 

When he awoke hours later, surrounded by frantic and mourning ghouls and siblings in the infirmary, he was not himself.

“Papa?” one had said, leaning in too closely.

He'd ripped their head off easily. Then he'd collapsed back into the bed, writhing as his veins burned within him. The changes hadn't quite finished yet. Everything went dark again.

He would be at his full power soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something something copia is the anti-christ. mutant sheep are killing ppl. the mutation that turned the sheep into monsters was actually from the flies. copia gets mutated into some kinda beast and becomes the undead antichrist, idk that's kind of the gist i got from my dream. technically i woke up from the convulsions you know, but i figured what happened next made a lot of sense in context. anyway i hope to publish some full works soon but creatively ive just been bleghhh. i have too many damn wips lol. it's a game of russian roulette as to which fic you get next lmao bc damn are they really fucking opposite energies. but that's all ill say. ily if youve read all my rambling and shit


	3. Copia/A Box of Donuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> copia gets a little too excited from eating some donuts. contains horniness over food, cumming in pants, and very very mild cum eating. food kink kinda maybe? idk lol. merry fucking Christmas <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look copia just strikes me as the kind of guy to pop a boner if the foods too damn good so idk lol here, have him creaming his pants from a maple cream donut. lord how i miss Canada and the maple creams from Tom Hot-one's. edited because i fucked it up, this is what i get for uploading from my phone goddamn it

Copia tossed his pen down, finally finished with his work for the day, and eyed the box of leftover donuts a Sibling of Sin had left on the table by his door several hours earlier. He'd decided to wait to eat them as a reward for when he'd finished his work. And now the time had come for him to partake.

He craved the taste, his mouth beginning to water. He wanted them so badly. When his brain finally registered they were his and he had free reign, he almost stumbled out of his chair and across his office to go retrieve the box. 

With a heavy plap, he flopped down into his seat again, setting the box on the desk. He lifted the lid slowly, and his core tightened at the sight of them, hints of arousal tingling down between his legs. He took a breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment in hopes to calm himself down. There were three left in the box, a classic glazed one, a chocolate dip, and a maple cream filled one. 

Copia selected the glazed donut, figuring he’d work from the simplest to the most sinful. He breathed deeply of its rich scent, and the aroma that worked its way through his nose went straight to his cock, which now pressed against his pants fully hard. He hadn't even taken a bite, yet these donuts so easily overwhelmed him. 

Flustered by his own arousal, he hurriedly bit into the soft pastry, only to release an uncontrollable moan. “Oh fuck,” he shuddered, mouth full. He greedily jammed the rest of it into his mouth and palmed at himself through the seam of his pants. 

When he’d swallowed it all, he panted for air, out of breath both from forgetting to breathe as he chewed and from teasing himself with his hand. 

Copia gave his length a squeeze, whimpering a soft “please” before grabbing the chocolate dip from the box and pressing it to his lips. He lathed his tongue across the icing, not breaking the surface. Then he swirled his tongue through the hole in the center and flicked the tip up to scoop into his mouth some of the icing that had drizzled down the inner ring, rolling the little ball of chocolate across his tongue and savoring it. 

He took a bite and the decadent way it melted in his mouth sent a twitch through his cock. It excited him so much that he had to pull his hand away from massaging his crotch lest he come early. He gripped the edge of his chair instead and whined with every bite he took, his eyes watering. 

Impatient, he shoved the last bite which was a little too large into his mouth and grasped for the maple cream. He had to wait a few seconds to finish chewing and swallowing the previous donut, barely pausing for a breath, and started in on the next one. He suckled his lips around the hole where the cream had been injected and slurped out some of the remnants with the tip of his tongue.

By this point, precum was seeping through the seam of his pants, and it wasn't enough to tease himself through slow, savored licks and lappings as such. He took a ravenous bite and rolled his hips down against the chair, desperate to simply feel any friction, even just the taut pulling of fabric over his erection. 

He purred around the cream that coated his tongue in the second bite. The flavor satisfied every lust and desire he had with its velvety sweetness. When he bit into the donut again, a heavy glob of cream burst into his mouth, and he trembled. 

He choked on the thick bite, shuddering out an effeminate moan. The tight stretch of the fabric over his cock sent his seed spurting out in various directions, landing in thin streaks everywhere from his stomach to his chin to his hand, the desk and floor. 

As waves of heat washed through him, his orgasm clouded his head to an almost dizzying degree. Copia planted his forehead on the desk, his breaths coming out through his nose stilted and heavy, mouth still full. But he was too focused on catching his breath from the high to chew any further.

His office door burst open with nary a knock, sending him jolting upright in his chair to see Papa Emeritus III standing in his doorway. “Cardinal, are there an—oh, apologies did I wake you?” Copia shook his head, face hot. “Hmm. You know you can always call it a day if you're tired, sí? Anyway, I just wanted to see if there were any other don…” he paused for the second time that minute, disappointment visually overtaking his features. “Oh… I guess not.”

Copia resisted fidgeting with the remaining half of the donut in his hand and swallowed. “Forgive me, Papa. I didn't know you hadn't gotten any. I would have saved one for you.”

“‘Tis quite alright. Nothing to be sorry for since you didn't know,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. He laughed. “Better luck next time, eh?” 

“Sí.” Copia nodded slowly. 

Papa stepped backwards to exit Copia's office and stopped before he made it out any further. “Oh, eh, Cardinal,” he started, raising a finger. “You have a little, eh, cream on your…” He circled his finger around his own chin.

Copia flushed and wiped at the area, pulling back his finger with a small glob of the offending substance on it. He panicked seeing there was nowhere to wipe it off and shoved it into his mouth, sucking off the salty cum with a forced, nervous smile. “Oh. Thanks, Papa.”

“Think nothing of it,” Papa replied, flashing a wide smirk. 

With that, he shut the door on himself, leaving Copia alone once more. This time, Copia planted his forehead on the desk for different reasons and let out a low, half-dead groan. 


End file.
